365

jan.3.22

Sometimes, when I feel unmotivated to do anything else, I'll lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling.

My ceiling is a light purple, and it has that bumpy tack texture to it. There's a few spots where you can see a few screw heads where the drywall gave way, thanks to stomping from the upstairs neighbors. Near the door, there's an old and dried bundle of lakeside wild mint, hung upside-down and stuck to the ceiling by a red push pin and blue baler twine. In the centre of the ceiling is my light source: a single light bulb in the fixture. No cover over it. On either side of my bed are air vents; when the heat kicks on, it's like a warm hug. By my window, held from the ceiling by a red thumbtack, is a dream catcher I made when I was in high school: white yarn, plastic see-through beads, and raven feathers I had found outside with my mom, probably on one of those days where we would go for a walk while also rock hunting. There's also a fine spiderweb beside the dream catcher.

The bundle of dried mint takes me back to my high school years, when the neighbor down the hall would smoke in their room, even though he told the whole building he didn't smoke. I went fishing one summer day with my mom and dad, and as we were unloading the boat, Mom and I found that the mint was roaming all over the greenery by the boat launch, and it smelled delightful. After a day of fishing, we both made sure we grabbed some. I hung mine up by my door, hoping it would take away the stale smoke smell every time I had to leave my room.

The air vents are wonderful on a cold winter's day. The space is quiet. But as soon as that heat kicks in, it feels inviting and welcoming. And it's almost like the house is talking to you, as there's no more awkward silence.

The dream catcher was a creative impulse, intended to take my mind off of all of the scary things I felt and had to cry about as a teenager. I'd used crescent moon shaped chunks of wire I'd salvaged from someplace with bits and pieces – quite possibly from a junkyard for cars many moons ago – and white yarn. I'd had a massive ball of it my mom gave to me when I needed yarn for my high school textiles class. The plastic beads are simple in colour: one bead each of red, blue, yellow, and green, and two beads of silver. It was with the intent that the colored beads represent the elements: red for fire, blue for water, yellow for air, and green for earth. The two silver beads were spirit. There are three strands, for three feathers, and two beads on each strand. I probably chose to put two silver beads instead of one because then it wouldn't be an odd number of beads. And the feathers just remind me of my mom, and how she'd find a raven's feather on the ground – or sometimes if she were lucky, it would be a brown speckled hawk feather – and compliment its shape, the colours it reflected in the sun, its overall beauty.

And the ceiling itself – the purple bumpy texture – reminds me of my dad, and how we painted the room. He did the ceiling because my balance on a ladder is terrifying. He made sure all of the ceiling was done going the same way. Such the attention to detail. He took great care in texturing and painting this ceiling.

In my room, when I can't be motivated to do anything else, I look at the ceiling. I am then reminded of all of the little things that allow me to step away from reality for a little while.